Untitled A Taz and Up Story Prologue
by TheSassyCurmudgeon
Summary: The story of how Taz and Up met.
1. Chapter 1

Tazia watched as her mother's hands smoothed over the white fabric. She loved them, her mother's hands. They were worn, wrinkled and looked a lot more like a grandmother's hands, but Tazia loved them all the same. They were the same hands that had cradled her as a child, that had held her hand, and guided her throughout all her years. Like mother, they had endured so much in the past few years. They too bore the lines of time, like the ones that had etched themselves into her mother's face. But like mother's face, these hands were a comfort. They were russet colored, her hands, with wrinkles like the folds in an old leather jacket. Soft, familiar, and always warm. Mother's face crinkled into a smile when she saw Tazia standing in the door.

Tazia smiled back. It was such a pity though, she thought suddenly, looking at her mother. After all, she wasn't that old of a woman. Tazia wondered if in a few years time she too would bear the marks of time and trial as her mother did. She wondered if they would even have that much time at all.

"It's finished," her mother practically shouted. She was nearly bouncing with excitement. A moment of silence followed as Tazia appraised the dress. It was stark white; eyelet lace on the bodice, littered with tiny beads and a full tulle skirt.

"Well?" her mother prompted.

"Well…" Tazia started.

"What do you think?"

"It's very…white?"

Her mother rolled her eyes. "No really. What do you think?"

Tazia looked at her mother; the eagerness was bright in her mother's eyes, then back to the dress. _Carlos will have a field day with this, _she thought. Carlos was her best friend. She'd known him since she was three and he hadn't seen her in a dress since.

"I like it," she said finally. "it's very…" she paused as her eyes lit upon the lace detailing of the bodice, it looked familiar somehow. She placed her hands on the bodice, tracing the lace pattern with her fingers, stroking the beads embedded in the fabric. Her eyes widened. "No," she said. It was practically a whisper. "This isn't…Mama I can't…" she couldn't finish.

Mama placed a hand on Tazia's shoulder. It was warm. "Yes you can," she said.

Tazia just shook her head. She could feel the tears welling up in spite of herself.

Mama wrapped her arms around Tazia. Normally Tazia didn't consent to hugs, but for Mama she made an exception.

"He would have wanted it," Mama said after a while. "It's your day and he would want it to be as special as possible. It's your day and you're going to dress beautifully. You only deserve the best."

Tazia mumbled incoherently into her mother's hair. Her eyes stung but she refused to let the tears fall. She had made a promise to herself three years ago that she would never again let her mother see her cry. She would be her mother's little soldier, as father had been.

It was three ago that they lost him, her father. David hadn't been born a fighter or the member of any army. He was instead a simple man of simple taste. He toiled the land for a living; a full time farmer and part time idealist. He and Miri, Tazia's mother, bonded over literature, the lost art. This of course was when there was still land to toil and mankind was mostly free. Before the land had become overrun with mechanized sentient beings of man's own creation, when there was still time to ponder the cosmic purpose of one's life and the universe.

_Te quiero siempre... Ahora corra._

I love you always... Now run.

She remembered the last time she saw her father. He'd smiled until the end. Always smiling. Still the smile when Mama had grabbed her hand and they'd fled. That smile that said that everything would be okay. Only this time, it wouldn't. It would never be okay again.

_Te quiero siempre..._

And he had still been smiling when the Decepticons fell upon him. Tazia couldn't see them clearly through all the chaos. Massive machinery amidst the smoke. The glimmer of a metal arm. The flash of a red eye.

_Te quiero siempre._

The light from the blast enveloped him in his last moments in an eerie blue glow. If it wasn't so tragic it might have been beautiful. He looked like an angel in that light, eyes crinkled in a smile.

_I love you always…Now run._

Tazia had watched her mother cry an ocean of tears. She saw her cry until there were no more tears left and she could cry no more. She saw her move through the following years stoic and silent. David's death seemed to take her voice with it. There was no more singing or laughter, little joy was left in eyes that had run dry from crying too many tears.

_Take care of your mother. She needs you._

And there Tazia was with the last thing that was left of him. There were no pictures of David, no trinkets or possessions, and memories do fade with time. There was only this dress, the last tangible thing rooted to his memory; the wedding dress he married her mother in.

"Thank you," Tazia said finally and excused herself outside so Mama wouldn't see her cry.


	2. Chapter 2

"Cover your face," Mama warned as she wound the checkered scarf around Tazia's head several times. "Is that good?"

"_Está bien_," Tazia mumbled through several layers of fabric.

"You have your books and everything?" Mama asked.

"Yes."

"And you have your lunch with you?"

"Yes."

"And are you sure you don't need me to walk you to…"

"MAMA." Tazia moaned.

"Fine, fine," her mother waved her away. "Be safe. Have fun at school. Try to learn something." She kissed Tazia gently on the forehead. "Goodbye."

"Bye," Tazia mumbled and made sure she was fully turned around before she wiped her forehead off with her sleeve.

Tazia hated the walk to school. She hated the sand that always hung about in the air and the wind that whipped it around her face. She hated the uneven road that was in desperate need of repair, littered with loose jagged rocks and prickly cacti. She hated the hot sun that beat down on her face, she could feel the little bullets of perspiration trickling down her brows. And she hated having to wear that stupid checkered scarf. But most of all, she hated that Carlos wasn't there.

Tazia and Carlos walked to school together every morning. But Carlos was no where to be found.

"Maybe he's running a little late," Tazia thought as she passed the now defunct intersection of Memoria Lane and Viaje Boulevard. After all, she'd left a few minutes early. So she sat down on the cushion-sized rock beneath the sign and pulled out a book to read.

She'd read Treasure Island more times than she could remember, but she cracked open the book again anyway. When she had last left Jim Hawkins, he was boarding the Hispaniola. She read on. She had gotten to the part where Jim was hidden unsuspecting in the apple barrel when he overhead Long John Silver talking about…

Tazia heard foot steps. Heavy ones, approaching in a stilted manner.

And that was when she saw him. A man, medium in stature, in a long gray trench coat and dusty black leather boots. A tuft of silver hair, unlit cigarette dangling out of the right side of his mouth. He was bent over a little and hobbled to where Taz was sitting on the small boulder beneath the street signs.

"You need to uh…sit down or something?" Tazia asked.

The man shook his head, but he leaned heavily against the street sign. Tired. He squinted around the horizon.

"Where the hell am I?" he seemed to say to no one in particular. But Tazia answered anyway.

"You're in Zephyr." Tazia said. It was named Zephyr because of the frequent wind storms. The town used to be Riverbend before then and before that it was Blue Grove on account of all the blue flowers that used to grow there. They were all gone now. Most everything was dried up in Zephyr now which was why the people who'd named it before had long gone. That was how it happened. A group of people left the place when the land went dry and then another wandering group would come along and name the town something else. The man nodded, saying nothing.

Tazia caught herself looking up at him. At first glance she'd thought him an old man but upon closer inspection she realized he had a youthful face. Was it the war that had made him gray and tired? The same war that had ravaged her mother's once serene face?

"Hey Taz!" a familiar voice broke Tazia out of her reverie. It was Carlos; books slung under one arm, the other waving. His smile faded when he saw the stranger standing at the crossroads.

"Hey Taz," Carlos said again, eyeing the man a bit suspiciously.

"You're late," Tazia said.

Carlos frowned. "Nice to see you too. I got caught up with Luis." Luis was Carlos' highly energetic kid brother. "He thought going around squirting people with his little water gun was more important than eating breakfast this morning."

"Sounds like fun," Tazia laughed.

"Yeah...I'm still waiting for my shirt to dry. You ready to go?"

"Yeah," Tazia stood and put her book back into her bag. "Let's go." She stole another glance at the man standing at the crossroads. He was staring ahead, not at anyone or anything in particular, just staring, eyes seeing nothing.

"Let's _go_," Carlos said, an edge in it.

After they'd gone a few feet ahead, out of earshot Carlos asked, "Who's the _gringo_?"

Tazia shrugged. "I don't know. Passing through I guess. Not much of a talker."

Carlos looked over his shoulder nervously. "I don't like the look of that guy. He looks dangerous."

Tazia rolled her eyes. "Don't be such a chicken."

"I'm not. There's just something weird about him."

There wasn't much to Zephyr. It was small, only a few miles long and situated along the side of an old riverbed. Tiny houses decorated its dusty landscape, edifices made of scrap metal and stone-as there was very little wood around-and stopped with cement and clay.

He could see the people staring at him as he passed through, feel their searching gazes on his face. He was a stranger here, immediately _other. _He ignored them.

"You alright?" he heard a voice behind him suddenly ask.

He turned. The voice belonged to an older woman with hair completely white. She was shaking out the crumbs from her apron before tying it again around her bulging middle. Miss Rose was a stout woman, with a permanent scowl and no-nonsense attitude. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of Salems, lifted one, then shoved the box back into her pocket. "Got a light?" she asked.

The stranger didn't reply.

"Are you deaf or something?" Miss Rose put the cigarette to her lips as she patted herself down for a lighter. "Now where did I put that damn thing?" she grumbled.

The stranger reached into his coat pocket and fished out a lighter. Then, without a word, he turned on his heel to leave.

"Thanks. Hey, you don't want this back?" Miss Rose asked after lighting her cigarette.

He continued to walk. Past Rose's Cafe and the dimly lit convenience store attached to it. Past the smoky pool hall and makeshift saloon, past the narrow little houses with the hot tin roofs. He wasn't sure where he was going really. He would just follow the riverbed until it reached its end. It wasn't much of a plan, but it was all he had.

The sun was becoming unbearable. His parched lips parted, but there was nothing but dust to drink. He'd run out of water a long time ago. He had run out of food as well but he was past the point of hunger, past the point of longing. He trudged on, each step feeling more leaden than the last.

_Tell my mother I love her. _

He looked up at the sun, stared at it, almost like a challenge. He stared at it until the burst of orange drowned out all other senses. Stared until he saw the black spots in his vision, until the blackness spread. He could feel it everywhere; radiating in his eyes, his fingers, feel the the blackness sinking into his very bones.

_Tell her I'm sorry._

He let out a final breath and mercifully the darkness took him, in its warm, velvet arms.

_The smoke cleared to reveal the remnants of the fallen… A severed arm, sparking with electricity, metallic fingers twitching and grasping at nothing. A wreckage. What had once been a door, warped and shattered. A lone wheel, hot and molten. Shells and shrapnel littered the scorched earth beneath his feet as he searched, searched for signs of any movement, any sign of life._

_ And then he saw him, crouched beneath the ruin of the overturned craft. A mess of wires and blood._

_ "Tad?"_

_ The boy smiled weakly. "Hey Captain. You made it."_

_ "Where are the others?"_

_ Tad shook his head. "I'm sorry, Captain. I tried."_

_ "Tad we have to get out of here. Now."_

_ The boy shook his head again. The eyes swam in their sockets. "I'm sorry. Tell my mother I love her. Tell her I'm sorry."_

"Up."

_ A blast sounded. An explosion of sound and light. _

"Up."

_ The fire devoured everything it touched. Greedily the flames licked up all that was left of the craft and its fifty men. _

"Up."

_ I'm sorry. Tell my mother I love her. Tell her I'm sorry._

"Up!"

The Captain gasped as he felt the splash of water on his face. He sprung upright to attention.

"Oh good, you're up." Miss Rose said and set down her bucket. She threw the Captain a towel.

The Captain wiped his face and then slowly began taking in his surroundings.

He was in what looked to be a living room. The room vaguely reminded him of his grandmother's. It was a cramped with too much furniture; an end table next to an oversized chair, a rectangular coffee table, a narrow bookcase and the large, plush couch in which he sat. There was also the faint smell of peppermint mingling with mothballs that he found both comforting yet unpalatable at the same time.

"You were out for a few hours," Miss Rose explained. "Just a while ago though you started mumbling and I figured you were coming to."

Things were beginning to come back, but very slowly. It took a moment for the Captain to register what Miss Rose was saying and the room was still spinning around him. But in time, it came to him, senses awakening all at once. Suddenly alert he realized that his trench coat was gone, along with the utility belt he wore underneath it. His eyes frantically searched the room.

"Don't worry. Your weapons are safe," Miss Rose said, and pointed to a coat rack in the corner. "Some pretty high-grade stuff you got there. Military looking."

The Captain rubbed his head. It was throbbing. Now that he was fully alert it was as if his senses were converging on him all at once. He suddenly remembered that he hadn't eaten in a few days and that he was also very thirsty.

Miss Rose seemed to read his mind. "Here," she said, and handed him a mug of water.

The Captain took it without hesitation, practically downing it all in one gulp. She filled him another and he took it greedily, consuming it as though he had never had water before. He felt a bit queasy as he felt the water sloshing around in his stomach. Hunger's outstretched fingers were clawing at his insides, gnawing at his ribs, demanding to be heeded.

"Carlos." Miss Rose called.

"_Mande_?" A familiar looking boy appeared in the doorway. Copper skin, dark hair and boyishly lanky. His slight frame only took up a fraction of the door space.

"Fetch this gentleman something to eat," Miss Rose commanded.

"Yes ma'am." The boy disappeared, but not before casting the Captain one last suspicious glare.

The Captain focused on the glass peppermint dish on the coffee table in front of him. There was something about the way the prism refracted the light. He couldn't help staring at it, marveling at the hues of purple and red and blue and green. The blackness hadn't completely left him yet. He could feel it creeping in the corners of his eyes. His vision blurred, vertigo setting in.

"You got a death wish or something?" Miss Rose asked suddenly.

The Captain looked up. The blackness evaporated a little as her voice rang through. "No man goes wandering in the desert like that unless he's looking to die. Ain't nothing on that side of Memoria Lane but sand. It's a dead end road."

Her voice steadied him, tethering him in place. He focused on the sloping contours of her face, the vibrant white of her hair.

"You even listening to me? Where the hell you'd come from anway?"

He struggled to find his voice. Slowly, remembering. He cleared his throat.

"Mobile," The Captain said quietly.

"So you're not mute after all." Miss Rose smiled. "At least now we're getting somewhere. Hey Carlos. Carlos! That supper ready yet?"


End file.
